


Pull of the Moon

by gluedwithgold



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Schmoop, Werewolves, Wincest - Freeform, Wolf!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 23:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8774446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluedwithgold/pseuds/gluedwithgold
Summary: When Sam is bit by a werewolf, the Winchesters' lives are forever changed - but maybe not for the worse.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brokenlittleboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlittleboy/gifts).



> Gift for the 2016 SPN J2 Xmas Exchange.
> 
> As always, my unending thanks to [non_tiembo_mala](http://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala) and  
> [Dancing Adrift](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Adrift)  
> for their constant and unwavering love, support, encouragement, inspiration and beta reading. I love you both!

***** 2002 *****

Dean had fallen asleep with Sam’s back pressed up against his chest, fingers entwined where they sat lax against Sam’s stomach, Dean’s lips resting at the nape of Sam’s neck. The soft rise and fall of Sam’s breathing had lulled him into sleep, exhaustion catching up with both of them after the past few days of tracking and killing a shapeshifter. 

Dean woke up in the middle of the night with a face full of fur. He groaned, jerking his head to the side and brushing the fluffy tail away from his head. It wasn’t unusual, especially when they’d been so busy, for it to catch both of them by surprise, but it  _ had  _ been a month. A quick glance at the motel window confirmed it, the full moon shining bright through the thin curtains. 

“Sam.” Dean reached out and nudged at the furry flank resting next to his shoulder and was met with a huff. “C’mon Sam, turn around, your freakin’ tail is in my face!”

Sam let out a quiet whine this time, but stood up on the bed, paced around in a circle a few times before flopping down with a whuff of air, his head nuzzled up against Dean’s chest now. Dean dropped his arm down from where it’d been resting above his head and scritched his fingers through the soft fur behind Sam’s ears before relaxing back against the mattress and closing his eyes again. Another few hours and Sam would probably be turned around again, never resting quietly when he was in this form. 

It wasn’t lost on Dean how odd it was that this was normal. His brother was a freaking werewolf, for fuck’s sake – it shouldn’t be just another day. But four years is a long time to get used to something. 

***** 1998 *****

Sam was fifteen when it happened, right when he’d started in with his teenaged angst and rebellion, which should have been their first clue that he wasn’t in the right mindset to be hunting. They’d been tracking the werewolf in the woods of Minnesota for three days, setting up camp for a few hours’ rest occasionally as they followed the trail. It was nearly midnight on the third night, pouring rain, and Sam was in a ripe mood. 

“Come on, Sam, get your ass in gear here!” Dad barked as he trudged up the hill. He’d just turned back and seen Sam lagging behind. “We’re close, it won’t be much longer now.” 

“Said that two days ago,” Sam muttered as he hiked his pack up higher on his shoulders, too quiet for Dad to hear, but Dean caught it. He picked up his pace, though, coming up beside Dean with a sigh. Dean bumped his shoulder against Sam, turning and giving him a grin. Sam reached out and gave his brother a shove, letting out a chuckle as he did.

“Boys!” Dad wheeled around as he came to a halt, glaring at both of them. “Do I have to remind you this isn’t playtime?”

“No, sir,” Dean said, letting the smirk fall from his face. Sam shook his head and started forward again once Dad turned to continue on. 

Sam let out an irritated sigh. Dean might have heard the rustling in the brush just to their left if it weren’t for that sigh, but the first thing he did hear was the start of the low growl as the thing burst forward. In an instant, Sam was on the ground, the beast pinning him with long claws digging into his chest, snarling filling his ears. Then Dean heard the snapping of jaws, and in an instant Dean was ripping the thing off him, gaping at flesh being torn away at Sam’s neck. The loud crack of the gun firing was followed by the acrid scent of the powder and the coppery tang of blood. The werewolf fell to the ground with a thump, and Dean was there at Sam’s side, panic tearing through his veins while his hands acted on their own to press against the wound, his brother’s blood seeping out from between his fingers. 

***

The next time Sam opened his eyes, he was flat on his back on the couch in the cabin they were staying in, Dean sitting on the floor with his back resting against the cushion and Dad behind him in the kitchen, muttering into his phone. 

“De…” Sam managed, the quiet sound pushing through his dry throat, but it was enough to get Dean spinning around to look at him. 

“Sammy…” Dean’s hands were instantly on Sam, one on his hip, the other threading through his hair, pushing it back off his forehead. Waves of relief washed over Dean, making his hands shake while he looked into his baby brother’s half-lidded hazel eyes. “Thank god… don’t move, okay? Just stay still.” 

Seconds later Dad was there, crouching down next to the couch, concern written all over his face. Dean sighed quietly, not wanting to back away, to let Dad take over. Sam was supposed to be his – ever since Dad handed him to Dean in the smoke-filled hallway of their house all those years ago. Sam was more than just Dean’s brother – Sam was Dean’s life. 

“Hey, buddy. You’re gonna be okay.” Dad’s hand replaced Dean’s in his hair, and Sam just blinked at his father, confused. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Um…” Sam tried but his mouth was so dry. He swallowed, cleared his throat, his eyes darting over to Dean. “Thirsty.” 

Dean was up like a shot while Dad smiled down at Sam, crossing the small room to the kitchen and running the tap. His mind raced with ‘Sam Sam Sam Sammy’, nothing but the things he needed to do to make Sam better filtering in past the mantra of his beautiful baby brother’s name. 

“You in pain?” Dad asked. Sam paused, taking a second to take inventory before shaking his head. “Okay, good. You’re gonna be okay, Sammy – Uncle Bobby, he knows a guy….” 

Dean returned with a glass of water, knelt down to offer it to Sam before it was snatched from his fingers by Dad, who slid his hand behind Sam’s neck and propped him up enough to take a few greedy swallows. Sam licked his lips and took in a breath before speaking again, one hand reaching out toward Dean, who latched onto it quickly. 

“What happened?” 

“Werewolf, Sam. But don’t worry…” 

“It bit me?!” Sam tried to bolt upright, but both Dad’s and Dean’s hands pressed him back down to the couch. Dean could feel Sam’s heart pulsing rapidly against his hand, panic speeding up his breathing. 

“It did Sammy, but Bobby knows a guy who can try to reverse it, okay? Calm down.” 

“Shit, shit, shit….” Sam muttered as he winced, his muscles letting go, relaxing back against the couch cushions. Dad didn’t even glare at him for the stream of curses. Dean shifted closer, tightening his grip on Sam’s hand and breathed a little easier when he got a squeeze in return.

***

Dean shook Sam awake once the car pulled to a stop in the dusty yard in front of Bobby’s house. It had only been a five hour drive – Dad drove straight through with his face locked in determination and his foot pressed to the floor – but Sam had been in and out of consciousness the whole time. Each time he woke up Dean would watch the slow realization cross his brother’s face that it wasn’t actually a dream. Every time Dean would soothe him back to calm with soft words and a gentle hand in his hair. 

Dad had watched them from the rearview mirror, only once making a comment about Dean coddling his brother. The watery glare Dean shot back at him was response enough. Dean wasn’t about to back off, not when his brother was so scared, not when he needed Dean… not when Dean had a chance to be so close to him. 

Dean half-dragged him into the house, Bobby grabbing Sam’s other arm once they passed the threshold, helping to lead him into the living room to the sagging couch. As soon as Sam was back out – unconscious or asleep, it didn’t matter, his brother was calm and that was better than the alternative – Dean joined his dad and Bobby in the kitchen, slugging back half the beer that was waiting for him on the table in one go. 

“So, who’s this guy you know?” Dean asked, sliding into one of the chairs at the table. 

“Simon Delhomme. He’s a hoodoo priest, and he knows what he’s doing, so don’t be sassing him, you got it?” Bobby raised an eyebrow at Dean, waiting for a nod. “He’ll be here any minute. I got all the ingredients ready for him, so we won’t have to wait much longer. Sam’s gonna be okay.” 

Dean’s shoulders fell as he exhaled, letting the tension drain from his body. He took another sip from his beer and settled in to wait – even five more minutes feeling far too long. The past eight hours had been surreal, his mind warring with itself over all the possibilities of what would happen next. What if it couldn’t be reversed? How could Dean let his father do what he knew he’d do? How could he let his Sam go? His beautiful Sam… it had been a year since Dean had noticed, realized – right when Sam hit puberty, had started to grow taller and fill out – that what he was feeling was different, more, than what was… well, normal. It wasn’t normal to get jealous of the cute girl chatting up his brother. It wasn’t normal to get irritated when your brother brought home friends to study, just because he wasn’t paying any attention to you. And yeah, Dean knew it was pretty sick the way his heart fluttered every time he watched Sam – from afar or in those quiet moments at home. But it was so much more than that, so much… it was everything. Dean knew – he knew it wasn’t ever going to be anything real, but he couldn’t… he just couldn’t lose his brother. 

He was just draining the last of his beer when there was a knock on the door. Bobby walked back into the kitchen seconds later with the tall, ghostly-slender man behind him. The two passed through into the living room where the man immediately knelt down next to Sam. 

Dean followed close behind, but froze in the doorway, leaning up against the jamb. Dad had made his way into the room, too, but a quick glance told Dean – Dad was just as paralyzed as he was. 

***

The whole thing was over in less than thirty minutes. Bobby and Simon made their way into the kitchen with the leftover supplies, the only remnants of the ritual were Sam, sound asleep on the couch, and the acrid odor of burned herbs hanging in the air. 

Dean was startled into action when his father grabbed his elbow on his way out to the kitchen, dragging Dean behind him. 

“Well?” John said, not his usual bark, a much softer, quieter tone to his voice. Bobby glanced over at him as he handed Simon a beer. Simon took the bottle, then stepped forward with his hand outstretched, shaking briefly with John. 

“I apologize for not introducing myself before I got started. I’m Simon Delhomme.” The man stepped back, took a swig from his bottle. “There’s a time limit for the spell - the longer you wait, the greater the chance of failure, so I wanted to get started as soon as possible.” 

“Understood,” John said, leaning back against the doorframe. “Were we in time?” 

“Partially.” Simon slid into one of the kitchen chairs. 

“What do you mean, partially?” Dean said, taking a step forward, only to be met with a stern glare from Bobby. 

“The only way to fully reverse the virus would be to perform the spell in the first hour after the werewolf’s bite. Obviously that rarely happens, no one keeps a hoodoo priest in their back pocket.” 

Dean scoffed, his gaze schooled on the man, waiting for the rest of the news about his brother.

“I was able to reverse the were part of the virus. Sam won’t turn into a killer. But, the wolf part is the first to take hold, so….” 

“You’re telling me my boy is going to… turn… into a wolf?” John said, his breath catching as he spoke. 

“Unfortunately, yes – but…” Simon leaned back in his chair. “How  _ much  _ of a wolf remains to be seen. We won’t know until the first cycle.”

“You mean…” Dean slumped down into the chair across from Simon, eyes wide. “He might turn into some part-wolf creature?” 

“No, no… he’ll transform fully into an animal – just during the full moon, of course. But the degree to which his… humanity… remains intact during that time is the variable.” 

“Fucking christ.” John spat the words as he slid down the door frame, squatting and leaning his back against it. 

“This is really the best case scenario, I promise,” Simon continued. “Wolves have never been domesticated, and they’re certainly not house pets, but they can be trained to not chase prey, not attack their owners. The same will be true with Sam. He won’t be a killer werewolf, and if he turns fully wolf, that can be dealt with. My hope is that he keeps his human consciousness while in his animal form. I’ve seen it happen before, and with more time having passed between bite and spell – the chances are very good.” 

“So, what are we looking at here? What’s this going to mean for Sam?” Bobby asked, pulling more beer from the fridge and passing them to John and Dean. 

“If he retains his consciousness, it’s just going to be a matter of treating his body like a wolf’s body during that time – he’ll need to eat, exercise, and sleep like a wolf. His humanity will override all the baser animal instincts – hunting, roaming and mating. It’ll be like having a very smart dog for a few days a month.” 

Dean let out a long sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. He pushed his unopened beer aside, stood and went back into the living room, pulling up a chair next to the couch. He couldn’t wrap his head around it – Sam as a wolf. He went over and over how this was going to change things, what he was going to have to do to take care of his brother now. He watched Sam sleep for hours, until Dad came in and ordered him to go to bed.  

***

The sun was barely up when Dean crept from his bed and downstairs. Simon was sitting in the chair next to the couch, reading, and looked up to see Dean staring at the empty couch. He pointed toward the door, smiling softly when Dean nodded and headed through the hallway and outside. 

Through the screen door, he saw Sam crouched on the porch steps, his arms wrapped around his legs, knees tucked up against his chest – curled in around himself, making himself small. Dean hated seeing Sam like that. He wanted to wrap him up in his arms, or take all his fear away, salt and burn it like a spirit, anything to push that fearful posture away. 

Dean pushed the screen door open slowly, stepped across the porch and sat down behind his little brother, wedging his legs around his slender hips and wrapping his arms around his shoulders.

“Hey, kiddo.” Dean felt Sam shiver slightly – whether from nerves or the chill of the early morning air he wasn’t sure – then relax back against him. 

“Hi.”

“You doin’ alright?” 

“I guess.” Sam scoffed lightly. “I keep waiting to wake up, y’know? Realize I was dreaming.” 

“It’s all pretty weird, huh?” Dean looked off across the yard from over Sam’s shoulder, watched the thin layer of fog that rolled between the rows of cars close to the ground. “Simon told you?” 

“Yeah. I’ve been up for a couple hours. He explained everything. Got a little less than a week before it happens.” Sam tensed up again beneath Dean’s arms. “Dean, is Dad… is he….” 

“No, Sam. Dad knows what’s up, he knows you’re not a monster.” Dean let his chin fall to the top of Sam’s head. “If he thought that, we never would have left that cabin.” 

“Guess you’re right.” Sam shivered again. “I’m gonna turn into a fucking wolf – that’s so messed up.” 

“It’ll be okay, Sammy. We’ll get you a cool studded collar and everything.” 

“Shut up, jerk.” Sam nudged an elbow backwards into Dean’s ribs. 

“Hey, maybe you’ll be a female wolf – then you’ll really be a bitch!” Dean snickered as he ducked back away from another elbow. 

“Dean!” 

Dean wrapped his arms tighter around his brother, letting his laughter die off. 

“Seriously though, Sam, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll figure it out. I promise.” 

“Yeah. Okay.” 

***

Even though Bobby’s house was full – the three Winchesters and Simon seeming to fill every available space – it felt unusually quiet over the next few days. They were all just waiting for the time to pass, waiting for the moon to finish its waxing cycle and draw out the wolf in Sam. Simon had agreed to stay until Sam’s first change was finished in order to help them determine how best to deal with the three days each month when Sam would be in animal form. Sam and Dean both grew more anxious as the days passed, their incessant pacing and bickering finally wearing on Dad’s patience until he sent them out of the house to run off the excess nervous energy. Dad was anxious too, though he kept it hidden by immersing himself in Bobby’s books, researching random lore and making notes in his journal. And Bobby kept his nerves in check by playing host, a steady stream of food coming out of the kitchen and keeping everyone perpetually full. 

***

They were about a mile from Bobby’s house, running down the path in the woods on their way back. Dean was a good pace behind Sam – always a bit slower than his little brother when running – and couldn’t help watching him. It had only been recently that Sam had changed from awkward and clumsy to the lean grace he moved with now, and Dean was finding it harder and harder to keep from admiring him. As he watched, Sam slowed and gripped at his middle and Dean’s heart started skipping in its rhythm, all-too-familiar panic racing through his body. It didn’t take long for Dean to catch up and come to a halt next to Sam as he began to double over. 

“Sammy? You okay?” Dean laid a hand to the middle of Sam’s back, leaning forward to try to meet his eyes. 

“I… Dean…” Sam tilted his head up to look at his brother, his face screwing up in pain. “Something’s wrong, Dean.” 

“Okay,” Dean said, grabbing Sam by the shoulders as his knees started to go out from under him, guiding him down. “Okay little brother, I got you.” 

Dean lowered Sam’s head to the ground, his heart wrenching when Sam let out a pained groan and his breathing sped up to a pant. Panic swelled through Dean’s body as Sam curled in on himself, sweat beading up on his forehead. He had no idea what was happening, maybe Sam was just sick – his brain zipped to appendicitis first for some reason – maybe wishing that was all it was because it’d be so much easier to deal with. But Dean knew, really, that Sam was starting to change. Dean felt completely ill-prepared to deal with what was happening, and mentally cursed himself for not tucking his cell phone in the pocket of his sweats. 

All he could do was kneel there beside his brother and watch as the waves of pain came and went, his mind racing, trying to make a plan, to figure out what to do. Ten minutes passed, and Dean had just decided enough was enough, was getting ready to haul Sam up off the ground and carry him back to the house when Sam finally relaxed, and let out a long, relieved sigh. 

“Sammy? You okay?” Dean pushed the hair back from Sam’s forehead. 

“Yeah.” Sam breathed out another sigh, his arms dropping from his stomach to the ground in exhaustion. “Yeah, it’s gone. Fuck.” 

“What the hell, Sam?” Dean leaned back on his haunches, scrubbed a hand down his face. 

“I think… it’s starting, Dean. Simon said… we need to get back to the house.” 

Dean helped Sam get back up, and they started back down the path again, Dean’s arm wrapped around Sam’s waist to support him since he was still unsteady on his feet. On the way, Sam explained what Simon had told him – about how this first cycle was going to be the worst, his body changing so drastically for the first time, but after that it would get easier, barely painful at all. Dean wanted to yell at Sam for not telling him about the conversations he’d had with Simon, for keeping Dean – and presumably, Dad, too – in the dark, but he bit his tongue. He figured if the situation were reversed, he probably wouldn’t be talking about it too much, either, and besides, the most important thing right now was to help Sam through this. 

***

By the time they reached the yard, another wave of pain had hit Sam. Dean didn’t bother helping him to the ground this time, just scooped him up as his knees gave way and carried him to the house. Once on the porch, Dean called out and kicked at the door till Bobby swung it open, then pushed through the hallway and into the living room, laying Sam down on the couch. There was a short flurry of activity then – Simon rushing into the room, Bobby gathering pillows and blankets and water to make Sam more comfortable, and Dad demanding an explanation with his voice booming over the commotion. 

“We were on our way back when he just doubled over, I don’t know!” Dean’s voice was pitched high in exasperation. 

“Well why the hell did you take him so far away?” Dad demanded, stepping up into Dean’s space. 

“You  _ told  _ us to go for a run!” Dean threw his arms up, his voice rising in volume. “So we went for a run!” 

Dad opened his mouth to yell back, but stopped. His eyes searched Dean’s, then he let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping. “I know, Dean. Sorry, I know I did. Where is he hurting?” 

Dean glanced down at Sam where he was curled up on the couch, sweating and clutching at his middle. He wanted nothing more than to be right at Sam’s side, needed to be that three feet closer, comforting him, but he wouldn’t get away with not answering. 

“Seems to be his stomach, I didn’t think to ask, sorry. Last time it lasted about ten minutes.” 

“He’s starting to change.” Simon sat down slowly in the chair opposite the couch, his eyes trained on Sam. “It’ll come in waves for a few hours. The first few will be the worst, then it’ll get easier until he changes. I’d expect he’ll go into animal form shortly after nightfall.” 

Dad and Dean both stared at Simon, taking in his calm demeanor. Dean was about ready to tell him off, call him out for his apathy because this was Sam they were talking about – but realized he wasn’t calm because he didn’t care, he was calm because he’d seen this before, many times. Dean stepped away from his father, toward Simon. 

“Is he… he’s not…” Dean stumbled over his words, the panic taking hold again and tangling his tongue. “He’ll be okay?” 

“Yes, perfectly,” Simon answered, his expression softening with sympathy. “It’s not doing any damage to his body. Think of it like growing pains.” 

Dean breathed out a sigh, then turned to look down at his brother. Sam was breathing slowly, his body sinking back into the couch as the pain subsided again. His eyes were closed as he relaxed, his face changing from tension to ease. Dean took the few steps across the room and lowered himself to the floor next to the sofa, laying a shaking hand on Sam’s arm. 

“You good, buddy?” Dean watched as Sam’s eyes slowly opened and he nodded. “Good. That’s good. I’m right here, Sam, okay? I’m not going anywhere.” 

Sam nodded, then reached up and gripped Dean’s hand where it lay on his bicep. He didn’t need to say anything to understand – Sam was scared, terrified, and just needed Dean to be there with him. Nothing could tear Dean away. 

***

Simon was right, of course, and after the first few episodes, the pain grew less and passed sooner. Not that it was any picnic for Sam, but having Dean by his side seemed to help him through it. Dean always knew the kid was brave as hell, and this only proved it. Dad was quiet, sitting in a chair across from the couch just watching as Dean took care of Sam. Dean could tell from the expression on his father’s face that he wanted to be the one there next to Sam, but Dean just couldn’t step back. It turned into a silent agreement – Dean was there on the floor or the edge of the couch, and the few times he left the room for a bathroom break or to get something for Sam, then Dad stepped in. But as soon as Dean returned, Dad backed off again. Dean had never been more grateful for his Dad understanding the bond he shared with his brother – as much as he knew Sam needed him, Dean needed to be with Sam, too. 

Finally, shortly after eight in the evening, it happened. Things had been quiet for a while, nearly an hour. Sam had been dozing while Dean leafed through a car magazine sitting on the floor with his back against the couch, his head brushing against Sam’s thigh. Dad and Bobby were both engrossed in dusty tomes, and Simon just sat quietly, watching Sam. 

“It’s happening,” Simon said, seemingly out of the blue, shifting to sit on the edge of his chair. Dean dropped the magazine and whipped around to look at Sam, who was just starting to shift, not quite uncomfortably, where he lay. After a few seconds Sam arched his back, and a bright, cloudy white light enveloped him. The room filled with an airy shooshing sound, just for a few seconds, then the light and sound seemed to be sucked back in toward Sam, revealing… not Sam anymore, but a wolf. His fur was brown all along his back, same as Sam’s hair, and paled to a light cream color on his belly – just like the pictures of timber wolves Dean had seen. The eyes, though – those were all Sam. The shape may have changed, no longer the tilted almond shape Dean was so familiar with, but the color was definitely still Sam. The hazel with swirling bits of green and blue was unmistakeable, and they found Dean’s within seconds. 

“Sam?” Dean said, reaching out tentatively. This was the unknown part – was he still Sam, or was he truly a wolf? Dean darted a look over his shoulder toward Simon, who nodded once, slowly. Dean reached a bit further, his hand almost connecting with fur when the creature in front of him let out a quiet whine, tilted his head and butted his forehead against Dean’s hand. Everyone seemed to let out their breath at the same moment, the tension in the room dropping in an instant. 

Dean lifted himself from the floor and sat on the couch next to the wolf – Sam – and let his arm drape across his shoulders. Sam let out a whuff of air and leaned into Dean’s touch. 

“That you in there, Sam?” Dean threaded his fingers through the thick fur at Sam’s neck and scratched slowly. Sam’s reply was another whine, followed by laying down, his head resting in Dean’s lap, his nose working, sniffing at Dean’s hand. “Oh, thank god…” 

***

The next few days were… well, surreal would be the only word to do it justice. Sam didn’t leave Dean’s side, even jumping up on Dean’s bed at night and curling up against his side to sleep. The two would take off into the woods for hours in the afternoon, Sam running ahead then turning to stop and wait for Dean to catch up. Sam seemed most content outdoors, and Dean didn’t mind accommodating him. The only time Sam left his brother was to relieve himself, padding slowly off to the edge of Bobby’s property – the first time when Dean tried to go with him, Sam turned around and snarled at him till Dean held up his hands in surrender, giving his kid brother space – then coming back looking almost ashamed, even though Dean tried to reassure Sam that it was fine. Dean even caught Sam looking at the bathroom longingly once, but the mechanics of using the toilet just weren’t going to work for him while he was in wolf form. 

In the quiet moments, Dean would sometimes find Sam watching him. They would be on the couch, Sam curled up on one end with those deep eyes trained on Dean – those eyes that were still so much  _ Sam _ – Dean wondered what Sam was thinking, why he was looking at him so intensely. He even foolishly asked him once or twice before rolling his eyes at himself because Sam couldn’t answer. He couldn’t help wondering, maybe… well, there was just something there, something like the way Dean had let himself watch Sam sometimes. 

Mealtimes were another adjustment – Sam seemed hesitant to eat the meat Bobby cooked up for him, and Dean suspected it was because Sam couldn’t use his non-existent hands to feed himself like he was used to, instead having to pick up chunks of steak with his mouth from the plate. They did manage to work out how to communicate, though – Dean got pretty good pretty quickly at asking yes or no questions that Sam could nod or shake his head in response to, and Sam, always a smart one, figured out latching on to Dean’s shirt sleeve and tugging in the direction of what he needed was pretty effective, too. 

Over the course of the days there were a lot of conversations with Simon, as well. Dad was concerned about the general public seeing and being fearful of Sam, was convinced they’d need to hole up somewhere for three days each month, but Simon finally convinced him that the addition of a collar and leash along with telling people Sam was a Malamute would be sufficient to allay any fears and they’d be able to go about their usual business. Simon also educated them on what Sam’s wolf body would need – exercise, time outdoors, and of course, the biggest change, a completely carnivorous diet. Simon told them that while wild wolves obviously eat their prey raw, consuming most of the organs and some bone, Sam would be better off eating cooked meat because once he changed back his human body might get sick. He explained to them that since wolves are mostly nocturnal, Sam might shift his sleeping patterns during the full moon, but his human consciousness remaining intact might help him fight that urge. 

***

By the third day, they had all fallen into a fairly comfortable pattern and everyone had started to relax. And then, in the middle of the night of that third day, Dean woke to the bright light and whooshing sound of Sam shifting back followed by a groan of embarrassment when he realized he’d shifted back completely naked, obviously. 

“Hang on, kiddo,” Dean said, his voice low as he flung the covers off himself and half on top of Sam, who grasped at them and tucked them around his waist. Dean was really grateful for the darkness in the room, both because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep himself from looking and because even just that thought had his face heating up. He crossed the room quickly and rummaged through their duffel, then tossed some clean clothes at Sam. 

Dean crawled back into bed, turning to face the wall for Sam’s modesty. Once Sam was dressed, he stood by the side of the bed looking down at Dean with his lower lip caught between his teeth, his shoulders slumped. Dean’s mouth turned up in a half-grin and he pulled the covers back. 

“Get in, ya dork.” Dean chuckled when Sam moved instantly to climb into the bed and pulled the blankets back up. Dean shifted down and turned on his side, wrapping an arm around Sam’s shoulders and pulling him a little closer. “You okay?” 

“I guess so.” Sam shuffled a little, his knees nudging up against Dean’s legs. “It’s all really weird.” 

“Understatement, little brother.” Dean ran his hand up and down Sam’s back a few times. 

“I can… I could see things more, differently… things I never noticed before.”

“Oh yeah? Well, wolves have better senses than we do – smell, hearing, sight – makes sense, right?” Dean could feel Sam nodding against his shoulder. 

“Yeah, everything was more intense. I could tell you had chicken and steak in the grocery bags yesterday, and it was still wrapped up. I could hear chipmunks breathing out in the woods. But, it was more than just that, though. I couldn’t talk or really  _ do _ anything, so all that was left was to watch and listen. Like I could tell how scared Dad is. How Bobby is getting a little grumpy from so many people in his house.” Sam paused, his lower lip slipping between his teeth for a moment. “And you….”

Sam’s voice dropped off a little, grew quieter as he trailed off. 

“Me?” Dean shifted back a bit, leaning so he could look at Sam’s shadowed face. “What do you mean?

“Dean, I could smell you. Maybe not smell, exactly, it was more than just soap and sweat, I could sense… how you feel. How much you worry about me. How scared you really are. How you love me.” 

“What?” Dean felt his face heat up again, his body tensing up, freezing like a rabbit caught, his heart pounding fast inside his chest. He huffed a quick, nervous laugh. “Of  _ course _ I love you, Sammy. Always have.” 

“I know that, but this was more… I mean the way you  _ really _ love me, Dean.” Sam tensed up a little under Dean’s arm, pausing with his breath held. After a few seconds the tension released, and Sam was moving, pushing up and then… Dean thought for a moment he must be dreaming but… no, Sam was really pressing his lips against Dean’s, really slipping his fingers behind Dean’s neck. A soft whimper rolled up from Dean’s throat as it hit him, this was really happening… and then Dean was kissing back, their lips sliding against each other in that slow tender way that only ever happens when you’re kissing someone you truly care about, someone you really love. They lingered, pressed together from lips to legs, and maybe it was only seconds, but to Dean it felt like a lifetime that his heart was swelling up in his chest. When they finally broke apart, they both let out quiet breaths, silent and still. Dean opened his eyes again after a few moments, met Sam’s eyes, wide and shining in the dim light. “Dean, I feel it, too.” 

“Oh, Sam… god, Sammy….” Dean wrapped his arms around his brother, pulled him close as he ducked his head to Sam’s neck and inhaled slowly. “Are you sure?” 

Dean felt Sam’s nod against his shoulder, then they both relaxed back into the bed. It was a long while that they lay there wrapped up in each other, silent, just being there together, but eventually, they both drifted off. 

***

The sun leaked through the blinds directly into Dean’s eyes to rouse him from sleep, and the smell of frying bacon brought his brain fully online the next morning. He sat up, gave Sam’s leg a shake to wake him, gave him a wink and a grin, then headed downstairs. Sam followed soon afterward, and was met with wide-eyed stares from Dad and Bobby while Simon sat at the table, still calmly sipping at his coffee. 

“Sam? How you feeling, son?” Dad had jumped up from the table to meet Sam halfway across the kitchen with a hand to his shoulder. 

“I’m okay, Dad. Really.” Sam’s voice was a bit shaky, and Dean could tell he was trying to be reassuring for Dad’s sake – maybe trying to convince himself a bit, too. They all took seats at the table while Bobby served up scrambled eggs, toast and bacon. Dean watched as Sam nibbled on his toast and poked at his eggs, completely ignoring the bacon. 

“Dude, what’s wrong? You’ve never in your life passed over bacon.” 

“I kinda…” Sam shrugged and ducked his head. “Had enough meat for a while, I think.” 

“Oh, I will disown you, baby brother!” Dean gawked at Sam for a moment, then tossed half a strip of bacon in his mouth. 

“You want it?” Sam asked, offering Dean his plate. 

“Alright, I guess I’ll keep you.” Dean grinned wide as he plucked the strips from Sam’s plate and leaned in to nudge Sam’s shoulder with his own. 

“So, what was it like?” Dad asked.

Sam sighed, then darted his eyes between Dad, Bobby and Simon. 

“It was weird not being able to talk. Like, I could understand everything you guys said, but I couldn’t respond to you. And the fur is really warm. Like really warm.” 

“Hey, I always knew I’d figure out a way to shut you up!” Dean smirked around a bite of toast. 

“Dean,” Dad warned, casting a glare Dean’s way. “Sam, Simon gave me the number of another hunter who’s in the same situation. If you want, we can reach out to him, you can talk to the guy.”

“Yeah, okay. That would be great.” Sam smiled across the table at Dad, gave a nod to Simon. “Thanks.” 

“You’ll really be okay, Sam,” Simon added. “I’ve seen this quite a few times – usually hunters, obviously, but they’ve all gone on to lead relatively normal lives.” 

“And you know my door is always open, Sam.” Bobby gave a nod to Sam, then to Dean. “Anytime you want to stay here while you’re changed, you’re welcome.”

“Thanks, Uncle Bobby.” Sam ducked his head, bashful under all the attention. Dean smiled and reached up to give Sam’s shoulder a squeeze. It had been one hell of a week, but Dean was finally confident that everything was going to work out just fine.

***** 2002 *****

Dean woke up, early morning light streaming through the space between the motel room curtain, with something cold and wet pressing against his cheek. He shook his head to the side, then felt the same sensation on his neck, followed by a burst of warm air that made goosebumps pebble up down his side. As he edged closer to consciousness, he felt the drag of a wet tongue on his face and reached up to bat it away, his hand meeting a mass of thick fur. The memory of Sam changing in the middle of the night flooded back to him, all the cold and wet on his face clicked and he groaned, then opened his eyes. 

“Sam. What’d I tell you about that.” Dean reached out and shoved at Sam. “Not in the face!” 

Sam let out a low woof, then ducked his head down and nudged at Dean’s crotch through the blankets. 

“Dude!” Dean yelled, pulling his legs up and turning away from Sam. “Okay, okay I’ll get up already!” 

Sam jumped down off the bed, padded over to the door of the motel room and let out a whine. 

“Okay, I get it, you have to go. I’m getting dressed.” Dean rubbed at his eyes for a second then whipped the covers back and dragged himself out of the bed. He threw on his jeans and flannel, tied his boot laces, then dug in the duffel for the leash and collar. They’d learned pretty quickly that even though Sam wasn’t really a dog – wolf – and didn’t need to be restrained because he wasn’t about to run off, people around them were just more comfortable seeing a leash on the giant animal. So they’d agreed to use it unless they were somewhere remote, and right now they’d been hunting in a small city, so the leash came out. Dean grabbed his jacket and crossed the room to the door, then bent down to fasten the collar around Sam’s neck which elicited a whine from Sam. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know it sucks, shut up.” Dean yawned as he clipped the leash to Sam’s collar, grabbed the keys off the table then opened the door. There was a small park across the street from the motel with a small copse of trees on one side, and Sam headed straight for it, tugging at the leash while Dean picked up his pace behind him. Once on the grass, Dean let go of the lead and Sam ran ahead to the trees, still after all these years bashful about relieving himself where anyone could see. They’d had a lot of conversations about Sam’s experience as a wolf, and he was adamant that going to the bathroom was by far the worst part of it. Dean was convinced it was the fact that Sam never regained his taste for meat, developing the habit of eating mostly salads while in human form. Dean would take pissing on a tree over that any day. 

After the park, they walked to get coffee and breakfast for Dean and stopped at a grocer for a few pounds of meat for Sam’s meal. Back at the motel Dean cooked it up in the kitchenette while shoving donuts in his mouth, then they settled back into bed to watch television until checkout time. 

“Whaddaya say, Sam… should we go find a cabin near some woods for a few days?” Dean asked while shoving their clothes into the duffel bag. He glanced over at Sam where he was sprawled out on the bed and watched as he nodded, then stretched his legs. “Alright, little brother. Let’s hit the road, then.” 

Six hours later the Impala pulled up to a run-down cabin, one of Bobby’s safe houses that was nestled into the woods. While Dean unloaded the car, Sam took off into the trees at a run. Dean watched him go, knowing he’d be back in about a half hour, panting, with leaves and brambles stuck in his fur, but content with having gotten out his urge to run and roam. 

Dean busied himself inside making a fire and cooking a lot of the meat Sam would need over the next few days. It had been nearly a year since they’d spent much time hunting with Dad, who never really got used to the routine of Sam’s changes. It suited Dean just fine that way, since all he wanted – all he’d ever really wanted – was to be with his brother. 

They spent the next three days quietly. Dean would take care of cleaning and food while Sam was out running in the woods, and the rest of the time was spent just curled up with each other on the couch or in the bed. Sometimes Sam would read, with Dean’s help, nudging his nose against his brother’s hand when he’d finished a page. But mostly they were just together. 

There was something about those times, those three days every month, that was just pure, almost healing for both of them. They spent the rest of their time constantly on the move, seeking out evil and seeing horrors most people wouldn’t imagine – so for them, it turned out to be more blessing than curse to have those that time to slow down, to just be. 

Just before dawn on the third day, the sky just barely turning from dark to gray, Dean woke up to the now familiar whoosh and flash that meant Sam was back to normal again. He didn’t bother opening his eyes, just reached out and pulled his brother closer and smiled when he felt Sam’s hands slide onto his chest. Then Sam’s lips were meeting to his, lingering just a moment before they disappeared and Sam was settling his head in the crook of Dean’s shoulder, the long length of his body pressed up along Dean’s, and they both slipped back into sleep, relaxed and ready to take on whatever came next. 

 

 


End file.
